


Mine When the Music Ends

by Rothelena



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothelena/pseuds/Rothelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 4.21 "Ruby Slippers"- Patrick Jane is done stalling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine When the Music Ends

Why could he never stop looking at her these days?  
Dim, artificial light was bathing her in a soft halo, and he felt his lips parting all on their own, his tongue sneaking out to wet parched skin. His heart sank deep inside his chest, as if an unseen knife cut it a larger hole, and he felt lonely in the middle of the crowd. He knew the feeling well, but this night was different.  
This night, he longed to come home, arrive at some kind of destination he couldn’t name, a place where he would be safe and warm.  
He looked at Teresa Lisbon again, Fifi Nix’ song a sweet background to his growing desire. She was so soft. Her lips, her moist eyes, the satiny skin on her cheeks. The massive flood of dark hair, made to be wrapped around his hand. He closed his eyes and imagined the scene, imagined pulling back her head, making her ready for his hungry, devouring lips- he swallowed and felt his length swell in his pants.  
Damn, that was completely his own fault.  
He shook his head. The case had affected them all, even him, who knew pretty much all about the evil that slumbered inside human nature, had been a part of the circle for so long it had splattered his aura on all kinds of levels.   
He’d been infinitely glad when he had realized that Archie Bloom had found a home for himself, hadn’t become a victim to the ruthless predators inhabiting the planet.  
He’d been fully prepared to leave it at that, to keep his secret, stay silent.  
But Lisbon’s pain had hurt him so much, his good, pure little angel, suffering another soul’s agony. It horrified him sometimes how much he’d truly come to trust her. He had always made it a habit not to trust, not to become involved more than he had to, but he had failed. After all his schemes and games and lies and tricks, Patrick Jane was still only human.  
When he’d bantered with her in the breakfast area he had still tried to fight it. Had still pretended that everything was harmless and normal. But the dark flower of his feelings had even then filled his guts, sprouting leaves and blossoms until it exploded in longing and compassion and love.  
He’d had to make her feel better.   
Her tears were falling now, running over her face in small, glistening rivulets. He envied them their right to touch her.  
Damn, he was cold all of a sudden, goose bumps spreading over his arms. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into her embrace, hide his face against her neck and feel at home. Feel that there was still love in his life. That he could find what Archie Bloom had in this cabaret.  
He cringed slightly- he had a hard time thinking the l-word, still feeling low and unworthy after all the years of guilt and shame.  
He’d kept his nonchalant mask. Had made a flippant remark about her tears, had so hoped to diffuse the tension that was slowly consuming him. He felt tenser than ever.  
He followed a shady impulse and put his hand on hers, trapping her small, frail fingers under his larger palm. It felt good, strong, masculine. He pursed his lips to hide his decidedly smug smile. She tensed slightly, her skin warm and soft against his own, before she turned her hand and laced her fingers with his. A shiver ran through his body, inflaming every inch of flesh until he blazed with hunger.  
When the song ended and applause roared up all around them he completely missed it at first, preoccupied by the wonderful sensation of her touch. It filled his soul with so much warmth he felt almost sleepy. Ready for that hug now, ready to snuggle up against her in a soft, comfortable bed.  
She attempted to move her hand and touched spots that made his engorged cock twitch in his pants. Okay- maybe there was a thing or two he had to accomplish before he could fall asleep.  
She tried to pull her hand away but he didn’t let her, gently squeezing her delicate bones. She tickled his palm and he almost jumped out of his skin.  
The next act started on stage, he hardly looked. But when he saw her cheeks flush, her lips tremble, he leaned over to whisper into her ear.  
“Let’s have a drink after the show, Lisbon.”  
She looked at him, her eyes open and vulnerable. Dark pools he wanted to drown in right now.  
“We can have a drink right here, Jane.”  
He tsk-tsked softly.  
“I don’t talk about the swallowing of liquid matter, my dear. I meant: let’s have a truly spectacular drink somewhere. Something along the lines of… a champagne bath in a luxury hotel.”  
She almost choked on a violent cough.  
Her stare was helpless, desperate. But he saw the lust gleaming deep in the dark green lakes and couldn’t stop teasing her. He would play with fire a lot before he fell asleep in her arms tonight.  
He came closer. So close their lips were almost touching, her warm breath was flowing against his face, he smelled its sweetness- It made him hot and dizzy.  
“Is my tough cop a little chicken?” He whispered.  
She couldn’t answer, her lips forming words that wouldn’t emerge, and his gaze wandered to her mouth, moist and plump and inviting.  
“Sexy little coward.” He breathed.  
Still she wasn’t moving away, his stubborn cop-princess.   
“What are you trying to do here, Jane?” She pressed out between gritted teeth.  
“I want to pamper you a bit, Lisbon,” he answered, moving his lips so that they grazed hers. He felt the tremor running through her frame in his own body, and his erection began to pulsate in a steady, demanding rhythm, thoroughly filling his pants. “And I’m done stalling. I know what I want. The question is, what can I do for you, my sweet?”  
The seducer had left his voice, every word was as hoarse as the scream from a sore throat, he couldn’t help it. He knew she could read in his gaze how serious he was, how much he was done, how much this truly meant. He felt ripped open, laid bare before her eyes. He’d never, ever taken a risk like this one, and he almost shied away.  
She was so gentle. As if her whole face was painted in soft-focus. He’d never seen a soul as beautiful and pure as hers. In fact, everything that was innocent and good and precious in his life was this one woman.  
He averted his eyes, lowered his head almost shyly.  
His sigh was desperate and frustrated- he didn’t know how to flirt any longer, and maybe it was better this way.  
He shuddered when he felt her fingers beneath his chin, making him look at her with a firm, unrelenting grip. He gave himself completely in that moment, every wall he had erected crumbling at her feet.  
His lips shook with longing. His body strived to get closer to hers.  
She nodded and released him, and he felt bereft when her hand left his skin, grabbing her fingers with his own to prolong the contact. He kissed her knuckles, one by one.  
“When the music ends, you’re mine.” He whispered and forced himself to look at the singer on stage.  
She radiated tension next to him, her slim body reclining on her seat. He bet her clothes felt tight and chafing- his own sure as hell did. He’d never felt this almost irrepressible urge to get naked before- it was a night for firsts, as it seemed.  
His love was a glowing thing so strong he suspected that everyone in the room could see it, laced with the unmistakable darkness of desire. His battle for platonic innocence ended exactly here. The last weeks had primed him, her love too much for him to bear. Too much to resist.  
His gaze wandered back to her, stroking her exquisite features. He squirmed in his seat.  
It took forever for the show to end, he didn’t hear one thing, felt focused on his need until his limbs felt numb, but he managed to smile at her. His smile was his major talent, it almost never left him. He could smile through tears.  
“Shall we?” he asked nonchalantly and shivered when he saw in her eyes how poorly he succeeded in tricking her.  
Her lids fluttered. He had to lick his lips again.  
He was scolding himself on the way to his car. What had happened with cool and aloof, for god’s sake? He had changed since he had kissed Erica Flynn in a gloomy hotel room. Physical closeness had been a no-go area for him before that, he never touched, didn’t need to be touched. His love for Lisbon had been untainted and pure. He had put her on a pedestal, well out of his reach, a shimmering angel with a flaming sword. His shield. His shelter. Untouchable.  
He had teased her like a little sister.  
Until something had forced him to see the woman beneath her saint-like icing, and his blazing core had wanted. Had developed an urge for closeness. For her.  
There was no other woman, of course. There never had been. She was like a perfect little birthday-surprise… he’d never imagined he would have something like her in his life again.  
He opened the door of his car for her, careful not to touch her. He guessed she wouldn’t appreciate wild sex in his car, tangled limps, writhing for momentum, for deeper, harder thrusting… he swallowed and slid onto his seat.  
He had no idea where to take her now, all he wanted was dark, secluded, just her and him.  
His moan was unnaturally loud in the dark confines of his car when she extended her hand and rubbed the bulge in his pants. Her lips latched onto his throat, sucking soft skin between her teeth, marking him. She opened his fly, her fingers fast and nimble, and it felt as if his internal organs exploded one by one when she stroked his swollen cock gently, right before she wrapped her hand around it.  
Her whole body shook, and he realized that she felt raw and vulnerable, too, that this meant as much to her as it did to him. That they could never return to what they’d been after this.  
“Teresa.” He whispered. “I love you.”  
It was simple and true. He’d thought he’d never tell her. But the words felt right, almost natural, the journey had brought them to this, there was nothing they could do.  
Her grip tightened on his length even as her eyes closed in despair. Her lips felt hot and urgent against his neck, her tongue drawing patterns on his skin.  
“Jane,” she almost whimpered, “we can’t do this.”  
He turned his head, intercepting her sweet lips, the kiss tender, breathy, barely there. His passion just a faint rumble underneath.  
“I’m afraid we have to, love.”  
She groaned when she deepened the kiss, her tongue probing, invading, her scent and taste intoxicating him until he felt dizzy and drunk with his feelings for her, multiplied by the hot caress, the wet ministrations of her delicious mouth.  
Her hand moved on his throbbing hardness, up and down, up and down, he moaned into her mouth before he gently disengaged her fingers, quickly rearranging his clothes. Everything hurt, his whole body vibrated with lust.  
He tore his mouth free and started the car. He would rent a penthouse suite at The Citizen, the only hotel that came to mind with an erection like this. He didn’t look at her, afraid he would ravish her right here if he did. Her scent clung to his skin. He groaned for all he was worth.  
His lower body was a mass of searing pain, and his legs were twitching terribly.  
How did she do this? How did she whip him into a screaming frenzy when nobody had in a decade?  
His hands jerked on the steering wheel. She was silent beside him, but he could hear her breath, harsh and panting. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, he still had a chance. A chance to make this count, to win her heart. He knew he couldn’t be separate from her ever again, so they had to work with what they had.  
His heart had chosen. The rest was unimportant, he had to improvise it from scratch.  
She gently placed her hand on his thigh and a strangled cry burst from his lips. He had to concentrate on driving, driving, his breath was milky dust in front of his face.  
Traffic was sparse, thank god, and he finally managed to reach their destination, exhaling a sigh of sheer relief.  
He threw the valet his keys and put his hand on the small of Teresa’s back, swiftly ushering her inside the huge hotel building.  
The concierge stopped being suspicious of his new guests as soon as he had checked Jane’s credit card.   
Jane didn’t look at him, looked at Lisbon instead, struggling to keep his lust away from his face. Her lips were plump and swollen from his kisses, her eyes even larger than they normally were. He felt his face contort with tenderness and knew it showed when she swallowed visibly.  
He mouthed the words he hadn’t been allowed to say for so long, soundlessly, his fingers twitching to touch her.  
They stood on opposite corners in the opulent cabin of the lift, almost glaring at each other like fighters in a ring. His erection was truly unmanageable.  
He pushed her inside the suite as soon as his clammy fingers had managed to insert the key card, slamming the door shut behind him.  
Recoiling tension. Eerie silence. He could hear her breath. And started to tear at his shirt. He stopped himself at the last second, remembering he didn’t have a change of clothes with him. Forcing himself to open the buttons one by one. It was torturous.  
She stood there looking at him, and he made his eyes plead with her, begging her to take off her clothes, too. He couldn’t wait, would die if she made him stop. He shuddered when she moved her hands to the neat row of buttons on her crisp business blouse.  
He was naked first, the cool night air wonderful on his uncomfortably hot skin.  
He straightened, flexed his limbs, felt his erection slap against his stomach. He couldn’t remember ever having been that hard before. He took shivery gulps of air before he moved to assist her, making his hands soft and gentle when he opened her fly, slowly pushing her classy black slacks down her legs. He went down on his knees in front of her, offering her his shoulders for support while he took off her shoes and let her step out of her pants and panties.  
Her naked body almost glowed in the gloominess, she was so beautiful she simply took his breath away, it caught in his throat, forming a huge lump he almost couldn’t swallow. He kissed her flat stomach in worship before he pushed one of her legs over his shoulder, gently sliding a finger between her wet folds. Her shudder tore through his own soul and he leaned forward, gently rubbing his tongue against her straining clit.  
She was about as close as he was, her taste was heady and sweet and so delicious he started to lap at her like a hungry kitten, stroking sinfully soft skin to get more of her into his greedy throat.  
He groaned with delight when he felt her fingers on his scalp, driving through his hair, raking their nails over his skin.  
He pushed his tongue into her as deep as it would go, his upper lip pressing down on her clit, and felt her come all around him, thrusting his whole world into a sensation of pleasure and sexual agony. Her whole body went taut beneath his hands and he drank her juices with utter abandon, silently begging for more.  
She stopped him when her tremors subsided, sliding her leg from his shoulder before she pulled him up, claiming his damp lips with her own. He passionately deepened the kiss, weaving his fingers into her glorious hair, pulling slightly to angle her head, open her up for his attack.  
Biting, brutal kisses, her fingernails scratching his back, begging for more. He slowly started pushing her towards the bed, his mouth still ravishing her, everything inside him focused on her.  
He pushed her down onto the mattress, standing between her spread legs, struggling no to push his cock in just like this, taking her without a hint of finesse. Screwing her like a wild animal, frothing with need. She was perfect and so small, her lips pouty and swollen, hair in wild disarray. Looking at him full of thirst and wonder.  
He knew there were things to say, questions to ask, but he couldn’t think of a single one of them. He wanted to apologize for whatever, the things he would do, his urge making him a less than refined lover for sure. But words wouldn’t come, he could just stare at her, reveling in her beauty and warmth and innocence, stark white despite all the things she’d seen. What did she want with a man like him?  
“Patrick.” She whispered, her sweet voice hardly audible through the rush of his blood.   
Every letter rolled from her tongue, her love for him bathing the syllables until they glowed with the moisture from her lips. He felt blessed, horny, in pain.  
“I’m sorry.” He breathed and sank his hardness into her, breaching her tight entrance with a deep, slow thrust.   
He braced himself with both arms, groaning deep in his throat, a purring rumble like the growl of a big cat.  
It felt… mind-blowing. She was so tight he almost pulled back, afraid he’d hurt her, but she wrapped both legs around his waist, keeping him with her, arching her back to make him slide even deeper. He’d never felt something like this, her flesh resisting him, clamping down on his cock before it slowly opened, let him push deeper, his thrusts short and probing, her walls hugging him with a merciless grip.  
Her breathless moans where music to his ears, her head was thrown back in ecstasy, her throat exposed, so open and trusting. Panic seized him, how could he do this to her, sentence her to a life with HIM, taint her with his madness, his darkness?  
But she simply ignored his sudden tension and pulled him closer, pressing her lips onto his, her strong legs bringing him even deeper inside her.  
She sighed into his mouth when he had entered her to the hilt, the base of his cock stretching her so wide he was sure it had to hurt her. But she just pushed her hips against his, making him shiver with pleasure.  
He kissed her roughly, his tongue a ruthless invader, his hips taking fast, shallow thrusts to show her how deep he truly filled her. There wasn’t a whiff of space left empty inside her, he was everywhere, she had swallowed him whole. Her legs twitched against his back, she pushed them higher to take him deeper, crying out when the unbearable friction inside her created earth-shattering detonations, setting fire to every nerve ending in her body.  
His eyes fluttered shut, he couldn’t keep them open, and his strokes deepened on their own volition, he almost pulled out completely, his glans teasing her sensitive entrance before he pushed back in, sliding as deep as he could go in a single, endless thrust.  
She cried out every time he drove home, and her sounds of ecstasy made him frantic, he gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation and picked up speed, taking her faster and faster, his thrusts so hard now her body quaked with his momentum.  
He was so afraid to hurt her, but he couldn’t stop, his hands gripped her hips, pushing her down on the mattress, holding her still for his rough fucking.  
His skin tingled, harder, harder, his cock felt aflame inside her, every time he pulled out the itch became unbearable, he wanted to rip the flesh from his bones. Blissful relief when she engulfed him again, her tight sheath clutching him mercilessly, rubbing over skin so sensitive he couldn’t stop the scream of lust that fell from his lips. He threw his head back, clenched his eyes shut, his hips moving faster, his whole body striving for the much needed release.   
She was writhing beneath him, struggling against his relentless grip, her hands touching him everywhere she could reach. Every time he pulled out she sobbed in frustration, followed by her cry of gratitude when he filled her again, pounding into her now, fucking her so rampantly he knew she wouldn’t last much longer.  
Her muscles started to contract around him, tightening so much he knew it was over. He swallowed her scream, pressing his mouth on hers, and gave in to the mind-blowing sensation if release, his whole frame going rigid from the force of his orgasm. He reared up on top of her and felt her thighs clutch his hips when the first jet of seed erupted from him, followed by long, mighty spurts of warm liquid deep inside her, the contractions deep and hard, deliciously painful. Her sheath was milking him with its endless clenching, and he gave her all he had, thrusting erratically while he emptied himself completely, his body shuddering and shaking with every new burst of semen.  
He collapsed in boneless satisfaction when he had spent the last of his essence, he already felt his seed wetting his own stomach, overflowing from her thoroughly filled passage.  
He framed her sweet face with both hands and kissed her like a starving man, his body weakened by his nameless ecstasy, but bravely fighting for his sanity, her lips the only nourishment he needed.  
He thrust shallowly inside of her while his tongue played with hers, softly and lazily, his breath a flood of heat between her lips.  
He felt the gush of warmth against his lower abdomen when more seed flowed from her core, clenching in sweet aftershocks, massaging him, making him hard again.  
He simply resumed his thrusts , gradually getting faster and faster, hitting her womb every time he slammed his hips against hers, going as deep as he could. She was bucking in his arms, her blazing core needing only seconds to clench again in another mind-blowing orgasm, so intense he saw stars behind closed lids. She came so hard her sheath tightened like a vise around him, he screamed at the top of his lungs, struggling to keep up his rhythm.   
His first orgasm had increased his stamina, and he managed to continue thrusting all through her climax, prolonging the contractions with every hard stroke he gave her. He watched her in fascination, had never seen her like this, consumed by ecstasy and lust, her skin flushed with desire, her body shaking to absorb the sensations coursing through her body. He sucked in every tiny reaction, every shudder, every cry, taking it into his system until his own passion peaked again, and he groaned deeply when his contractions hit sore muscles, clenching in their urge to gain satisfaction.   
He had no idea where all the semen came from this time, but he came like mad, spilling what felt like gallons, and it just wouldn’t end.   
His body tensed so much it felt as if the muscles where trying to break through his skin, bone-deep, shuddering release, his climax gripping every layer of his self. He felt her come again, her orgasm triggered by his own endless spending, the jets of his seed still strong and sharp inside her.  
When he came down from the high he could hardly move, taking care to crash next to her, sparing her his weight. He shook all over, every muscle twitching and trembling from the effort.  
Every breath was searing his lungs, he couldn’t take in enough air, his fingers clutching at his chest until she moved next to him, straddling his hips before she kissed him softly, her breath running down his throat in a sweet flood of soothing warmth.  
His breathing gradually calmed while she showered his face with kisses, her hands so gentle on his skin, he never wanted her to stop. He knew his eyes were warm and adoring, every pretense of his usual arrogant calm wiped out of his system for the moment.  
His legs were still on the floor, their position not ideal for sleeping, but he simply couldn’t move. She placed her head on his chest and he forced his tired arms to engulf her in a tender embrace. It felt so good he moaned lowly, pulling her a little tighter with enormous effort.  
“I don’t really know what’s the matter with me.” He whispered. “It’s never been like this before.”  
“If you don’t let it out,” she murmured sleepily, “It swells and bursts in an enormous explosion.”  
He chuckled.  
“I jerked off on occasion, Agent Lisbon. To stop my sorry frame from bursting, you know.”  
She lifted her head and looked at him, and the depth in her eyes made him speechless for a moment. Like a dark forest he could get lost in all too easily. He wanted to vanish there, so much, never to reappear again.  
“Oh, I’m not talking about sex,” she said softly, stroking his cheek in a gentle, comforting gesture, “I’m talking about love.”  
He swallowed and felt tears spring to his eyes.  
She smiled and pressed a kiss on his nose before she put her head on his chest again.  
She was right, of course. He had swallowed his feelings for so long, all those years working next to her, hiding his love beneath a layer of banter and flippant remarks, trying to deny the fact that she had reached where no one else could. He had tried to move on without her, had tried to steel himself against her influence, but even while he had flirted with Erica Flynn, trying to convince himself that Lisbon was nothing more than a dear friend, he had loved her so fiercely he had felt her hurt as his own.   
He had ignored her so often just to prove to himself what an independent, cool guy he was.   
And all the time, his love had swelled inside him, until it had burst. There was only so much goodness, so much sweet perfection he could take. Watching her suffer for the pain of a battered young man like Archie Bloom had burst his bubble. He wasn’t aloof, not the slightly bored, arrogant snob he liked to portray. He was a man deeply in love.  
“Thank you,” she sighed against his chest.  
“For what?” His own voice sounded loud in the silence.  
“For taking me to the cabaret tonight. I know you trusted me not to report the whole thing. Just to help me through my sadness, you took the risk. I love you, Patrick Jane.”  
He gasped. She said it so matter-of-factly, so calmly.  
She simply shrugged.   
“I would have loved you through another decade of silence, you know? That’s what love is like, and I had to become almost forty to understand it. I suffered, and sometimes it hurt. But it always was- what it was. I didn’t really ask for anything. I just loved you, all the time. No matter what you did, no matter what you said. At the end of the day, just this remained- love. It is what it is, says love.”  
She smiled.  
“I love you, Patrick Jane.”  
He touched her face, afraid she might vanish, prove to be nothing but a dream, a beautiful fantasy. But her skin pulsed warmly beneath his fingertips, vibrant and alive, and he closed his eyes before he brought his lips to hers, just pressing them against her mouth in a light touch.  
His whisper caressed her skin, slid between the seam of her lips.  
“I love you, Teresa Lisbon.”  
The End


End file.
